


A Day at the Beach

by foreignobjecticus



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: B7 Kink Meme Prompt Fill, Beach Episode, Crack Treated Seriously, Food Kink, Kink Meme Prompt Fill, M/M, PWP, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23734237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreignobjecticus/pseuds/foreignobjecticus
Summary: This is probably why we never got a beach episode. Blake sees Avon not enjoying himself all that much at the beach and buys him an ice cream. Things get messy very quickly. No actual sex, just a lot of messing around.
Relationships: Kerr Avon/Roj Blake
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	A Day at the Beach

**Author's Note:**

> I sat down about five hours ago and went to continue a totally different kink meme prompt I've been meaning to post for a month. Instead, I took up the prompt " ** _Avon eats ice cream off Blake's chest_** " and this happened. It turned out messier than I'd intended and probably makes very little sense, but let's go with it - better to post bad fic than to never have posted at all. ;)

We’d been lucky to come across the pleasure planet so far out of Federation space. Cally had been nagging Blake for weeks for a rest, and miraculously, our fearless leader had relented to us spending a day on the shores of the planet’s more primitive side – _safe from the main city where they’d expect us to go_ , he’d reasoned in a way that was pseudo-logical and wholly Blake. I didn’t object myself; having been confined to the Liberator for more than six weeks, I was thankful to spend some time planetside, even if it meant the indignity of _frolicking_ on the beach. 

We had all teleported down together, leaving Orac at the controls and with precise instructions to warn us of any pursuit ships on the long-range scanners. Blake had run several extra long-range scans prior to establishing orbit and seemed oddly secure in the knowledge that we’d have at least an hour before any detected ships came in range of the Liberator. Blake was usually quite hesitant to leave the ship in such a state, but with the strong dual suns in the system to keep Liberator’s power banks charged while running the scanners, there didn’t seem to be any real danger to leaving the ship for a few hours. And so here we were.

Cally and Jenna had run off almost immediately upon landing on the planet, dropping their towels to the white sand and heading to the firm ground of the tideline to play a rather engaging game of volleyball. Vila, torn between watching this and taking the opportunity to pick through other beach-goers’ belongings, was prowling around the lower shore area with one eye plastered on the game and one hand rifling through an unattended beach bag. Gan had taken to the water almost immediately, and if one looked out far enough, he could be seen sluicing through the waves in a powerful backstroke. Up on the pier, I sat alone and uncomfortable, clothed only in the lightweight shorts Cally had insisted I wear. _No leather on the beach_ , she’d said as she’d thrust the shorts my way when I’d attempted to teleport fully clothed, _it’s no good for the material. And you could use some vitamin D_. Could I _indeed_? 

Well there wasn’t much chance of that here. Blake had been occupying himself very well on the beach, _totally ignoring me and talking to hussies_. I scanned the horizon, looking back to where our intrepid leader had been gesturing theatrically with two pretty young things wrapped in sarongs. Trust Blake to turn a day at the beach into a working holiday. But no, as I’d been letting my gaze wander, he’d vanished, as had the tarts that he’d been speaking to. Probably got bored; I know I would have. It was a few minutes later before I found Blake dragging himself up from the edge of the surf, curls plastered to his face and sturdy body glistening with salt water. He stood up, legs covered in dark sand, and shook his head like a mangy dog spraying water everywhere as it dried.

“What a _mutt_ ,” I murmured under my breath and didn’t take my eyes off his form until something behind me dragged my gaze away.

“Three credits for a song, Mister?” some ridiculous looking man tried to pester me, jostling a wooden box while a trained monkey shook a tambourine without any rhythm whatsoever. I gave the pair my most icy frown and growled.

“Does it _look_ like I have any credits?” I gestured at my swimming shorts, noticing to my horror that they had become a big more snug since I’d been watching Blake come out from the water. It wasn’t enough for the man to notice, probably, and so when I looked back up at him I still had enough of a scowl on that they beat a hasty retreat. Good.

Turning my eyes back to the water, I searched for the thick, sandy figure, but he was gone.

“Damn,” I cursed, then crossed my legs and adjusted myself discreetly. I wasn’t worked up, but it wouldn’t do to be caught sitting up at the pier almost completely naked and already at half-mast.

As the minutes wore on, I allowed my mind to wander, determinedly _not_ thinking about how hot and wet Blake must be somewhere out of my field of view. I instead kept an eye on Vila and Gan further out at sea. While I trusted Gan could probably keep himself above water, Vila looked as if he was about to be in a fair bit of trouble. Distracted as he was, he presumably hadn’t noticed the owner of the bag he was fossicking through; they were coming up to him, distracted as well, when Jenna and Cally’s volleyball bounced across Vila’s field of view. Somehow (and it was hard to tell _how_ when he was out of earshot), Vila managed to pass himself off as being part of the volleyball game and hurled himself in the direction of the stray ball. Whatever had been in Vila’s hand glinted, sticking out of the neck of the bag he’d been at.

“Clever,” I noted with a cocked eyebrow. It would have been tempting for him, but if he’d kept the jewellery on his person, Vila would have been caught. Sometimes I didn’t give the thief _quite_ as much credit as was his due. 

“What’s clever?” a deep voice at the far end of the bench made me jump, and I turned my head to see Blake smiling down at me, an ice cream cone held in each hand. He dropped himself onto the seat beside me with a huff and handed me one of the frozen treats which I took with no small amount of confusion.

“How long have you been behind me?” I asked, watching as Blake took a lick of his pink ice cream. His tongue darted out from his lips, taking a broad swipe up the side of the cone and leaving a drop of cream on the inside of his upper lip when his tongue retreated into that hot, _wet_ -

“I just came back from the ice cream stand,” he shrugged off my wariness as if it were routine. “I hope you like vanilla.”

I looked at the cone in my hands, realising it was already beginning to drip in the heat of the sun. I was then presented with a quandary; how the _hell_ was I supposed to eat this stupid thing with dignity? _Especially_ after watching Blake licking at his – it was _indecent_! While I was contemplating how best to tackle the rapidly melting mess, Blake cleared his throat gently.

“Thank you, Blake,” he parroted. I flicked my eyes towards him briefly, my tone less annoyed than I felt at that moment.

“Yes, well done Blake; you picked my favourite,” I threw him a bone and gave up trying to get at my ice cream with any dignity, licking the drips up before they reached my fingers.

“Vanilla - really? I didn’t think you’d be _quite_ so boring, Avon,” Blake purred and I replied without looking away from my cone, pointedly avoiding any chance of catching Blake’s tongue at work again.

“There’s nothing wrong with vanilla,” I found myself arguing before I was caught off guard by Blake’s deep chuckle which heralded the fact that I’d fallen into some sort of schoolboy trap.

“Don’t be so childish,” I snapped my head up and gave him a scowl. _Stare at the ice cream, not his lips…_ “What have you got?” I changed the conversation quickly. “It looks incredibly unappealing.” _Though that changes considerably when it’s smeared on your lips. NO AVON, STOP._

“Targian silkberry,” Blake turned the treat around in his hand and caught a few drips before they met his fingers. _Oh, I bet they are silkberries- DAMN IT, NOT HERE._

“Trust you to pick something needlessly adventurous,” I quipped back. My voice sounded strained to my ears, so to distract myself I took a particularly aggressive bite of my ice cream cone. Blake squirmed on the bench.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to try something new,” he leaned in closer and I swallowed my ice cream down hard like there was suddenly a lump in my throat. Blake held his pink, dripping mess up towards me and I raised an eyebrow slowly, not moving. “Go on.” _Take a lick_ he almost seemed to say. I was frozen for a second or two, and I noticed then that the sun was beating down on me and making the sweat bead on my forehead and my skin flush. Yes, it had to be the sun. I’d been out too long already.

Slowly, I reached out towards the cone and wrapped my free hand around Blake’s to steady it, feeling the sticky cream that had already melted over his fingers. I scooted along the bench a little, leaning in, and bent my head to reach the ice cream. I stuck my tongue out experimentally, taking the smallest amount of the treat onto the tip and tasting it. The stuff wasn’t unpleasant after all; it was fruity, obviously, and tangy like a raspberry. Satisfied, I leaned in again and paused. I looked up through my lashes at Blake, making eye contact, and felt a thrill of excitement when I saw his flushed face and parted lips. _Oh, to hell with it_. I’d been trying to behave myself, I really had, but at the sight of Blake like that, I couldn’t help myself. I quirked my eyebrow again and smirked before sinking my teeth into the side of the cone, brushing my lips against Blake’s sticky fingers as I pulled back. Blake’s sweaty chest heaved with short, tight breaths, and I felt his gaze burning through me.

“Didn’t pick you for a biter,” he rumbled.

“Then don’t offer your treats if you’re unsure,” I replied, and he let out a short bark of laughter which lit his face up. _God_ , _that stupid smile-_

I grimaced then at the feeling of something dripping and noticed that my long-neglected ice cream had managed to run down half my arm and onto my chest while I was otherwise preoccupied. I wiped myself off quickly, but only managed to make myself sticky with vanilla _and_ the Targian silkberry from my hand. Wonderful. Sticking my fingers in my mouth without thinking, I left myself wide open, and Blake shifted in until his thick, sandy thigh was brushing up against mine.

“O happy finger…” he watched me pull my cleaned fingers from my mouth and practically melted into me.

“What?” I shot out weakly, but I was finding myself less inclined towards conversation as Blake’s heaving chest and sweaty body began invading my personal space and there were suddenly two very soft, very sticky lips pressing against my own. My breath caught in my throat, and after a second of shock I surged forward, thrusting my hand into his drying, windswept curls and forcing his head in closer to mine. I sucked at his lips, bit, and when he gasped I all but rammed my tongue into his sweet mouth, tasting every inch I could get to. I shifted, pulled by one unsteady hand, until I was straddling Blake’s lap and pressing myself greedily against the hardness tenting his thin swimming shorts.

“Avon,” I heard him murmuring against my lips a few times before I comprehended what he was saying. Leaning back, I found what he was mumbling about; both of our ice creams, soft already from the sun, had been crushed up against Blake’s chest. While I had the advantage of having been on top, I had avoided most of the mess and so Blake had taken the brunt of our distraction. White and pink trails of cream had run down his chest, across his nipples and under the gentle swell of his pecs.

“Is this what you intended when you bought the ice creams?” I flashed him one of my toothier, dangerous grins, though he still looked a trifle upset at the fate of his treats.

“I didn’t intend to wear them, no,” he grumbled out and groaned when I ran my fingernails lightly over his neck and down the clean part of his chest. The sun was turning his space-pale skin pink already, and my scratching brought the skin into beautiful white relief – much like the cream. _I’m not a sweet tooth, but I can make an exception_.

“Here,” I pressed my mostly-untouched cone into Blake’s hand ( _had he been squeezing my hips? I hadn’t noticed_ ) and leaned in for another greedy kiss. When we resurfaced, I purred, “finish mine. I always preferred the ice cream to the cone anyway.”

I dropped my head to his chest and laved at his sweating flesh, picking up the tang of the fruity ice cream and the salt of the ocean on his glistening skin. I pursed my lips to suck from his breastbone down, taking up each trail of cream one at a time, the longest ones first before they ran into the dried sand across his stomach. Each press of my lips brought a shudder from Blake, which turned into an obscene groan when I licked my way back up his chest in long strokes. Having cleaned up the worst of the mess, I turned my attention to his right pec where most of his Targian silkberry had ended up. I stuck my tongue out and ran it around and under the soft flesh, circling slowly up. That was when Blake trembled under me and his hand clenched on the back of my head, pressing me to his chest, so I repeated my exploration in another slow circle, around, under and up until I reached a soft nipple. There, now pressed firmly against his skin, I bit just a touch harder than I should have.

“Av’n!” Blake gasped and shot up, pushing me back as if he’d only _just_ realised letting me ravish him on a public bench was a _bad idea_.

“What?” I asked as innocently as I could muster under the circumstances. “You said you _liked_ that I’m a biter…”

The scowl Blake shot me was softened only by the gleam in his eye and I could tell he’d enjoyed himself. But now he might have been clean, but he was sticky – so was I, for that matter – and there was another issue pressing against my lower stomach that _definitely_ couldn’t be dealt with on a public bench in the middle of a beach.

“Call Liberator,” he finally managed, swallowing down what undoubtedly would have been a ruder retort in other circumstances. “I need you and I need a shower.”

“In that order?”

“ _Avon_ …”

I grinned wickedly at his warning tone, feeling much like it were a challenge. _Oh, it’ll be that order, Blake. I didn’t come down to a pleasure planet beach with you **just** to end up having vanilla sex._

“Avon. Cally – Blake’s had a bit too much sun. I’m taking him back to Liberator,” I reported into my bracelet and didn’t wait for a reply. “Orac – bring Blake and me up.”

We disappeared in a blur of teleport static, leaving behind just a pair of crushed ice cream cones.


End file.
